


built my life around sound to keep you dancing

by love_killed_the_superstar



Series: it's our happily ever after, after all [5]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Bisexual Eugene (Disney: Tangled), Bisexual Lance (Disney: Tangled), Character Study, Coming Out, Gen, Getting Back Together, Growing Up, Lance Strongbow Appreciation Week, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, References to Rapunzel and the Vanishing Village, Trans Catalina (Disney: Tangled), Trans Female Character, background cassunzel, background uknighted dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_killed_the_superstar/pseuds/love_killed_the_superstar
Summary: #5// Lance laughs from his belly, his shoulders shaking a little as he clings to Eugene as well. “How is dear old Stalyan, anyway?”“How should I know? Haven't seen her in years, now.” His hands run up and down Lance's back soothingly. “Don't think we'll be those kind of exes who get coffee together and reminisce on the old times, somehow.”“You mean like us?” Lance ribs, earning a light smack upside the head.“If this is your way of saying we're exes again, I'll be really upset.”(A collection of ficlets for Lance Strongbow Appreciation Week 2021.)
Relationships: Angry | Keira & Red | Catalina & Lance Strongbow, Cassandra & Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Lance Strongbow, Lance Strongbow & Pearl Perlson | Grandma Pearl (Disney: Tangled), Rapunzel & Lance Strongbow
Series: it's our happily ever after, after all [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833451
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	1. arnwaldo schnitz

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back to the next instalment of How Queer And Polyamorous Can I Get Away With Making Tangled The Series? ???  
> this time we're focusing on lance!! one of the most underrated characters, and easily one of my favourites. my concentration has been so bad recently so who knows if i will complete this week, but just making something for it is good enough for me lol. this fic, while not mainly focused on schnitzherbert, will very likely have a lot of it peppered in, so. if that's your thing, great. if not, i'm sorry i guess? lmao  
> fic title is from 'you've got me' by the greeting committee.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #1 // If he scrunches his eyes shut, Lance can almost make out his parents’ faces, but it’s as though they’re covered in a layer of silk, distorting the features. He can recall spectacles on his father’s face, and acne scars dappling his mother’s cheeks. But their voices, their words to him and the way they loved him are gone, and he doubts he’ll ever get them back.  
> But who needs them, right? The orphanage was fine. He had the other kids there. He had Eugene. It’s not like he ever planned to go on some big quest to find the truth about his parents’ identities, or anything. After all, they were gone. No magic or science or prayers in the world could bring them back.  
> Around this time, little Arnie Schnitz stopped existing, and Lance Strongbow was born.

To Lance, it feels like Arnwaldo Schnitz hasn’t existed in many, many years.

He was born outside of Corona, but the where or the when aren’t entirely clear - the most he knows is that it must have occurred sometime around early spring, so the orphanage picked out a date of birth for him at random and called it a day. His feelings on that particular aspect of his life changes year to year; he can go from demanding a king costume and three tier cake with sparklers to wanting to ignore the celebration entirely. Nobody he’s ever told that to really gets it, so he hasn’t brought up this peculiarity in years.

As a kid, he wasn’t overly curious about his parents. From what the orphanage staff told him, his parents had died from a horrific illness plaguing the north-east of the land that year. He wasn’t the only kid at the orphanage with this particular origin story, but he was the oldest of them, at three years old. If he scrunches his eyes shut, he can almost make out their faces, but it’s as though they’re covered in a layer of silk, distorting the features. He can recall spectacles on his father’s face, and acne scars dappling his mother’s cheeks. But their voices, their words to him and the way they loved him are gone, and he doubts he’ll ever get them back.

But who needs them, right? The orphanage was fine. He had the other kids there. He had Eugene. It’s not like he ever planned to go on some big quest to find the truth about his parents’ identities, or anything. After all, they were gone. No magic or science or prayers in the world could bring them back.

He told himself this for the next nine years, until one day Eugene decided it was time for them to leave. They would chase their dreams, just like Flynn Rider and Lance Archer, be true heroes and fight the good fight and end up rich as kings. And maybe, just maybe, Eugene could even find his parents while they were at it.

They bummed around for a while, picked some pockets, joined a circus, tried to make a life for themselves. It didn’t work out, and  _ fuck _ , was that crushing to a couple of twelve-year-olds ready to take on the world.  _ Shit happens, _ they had both laughed, before dissolving into tears.  _ We pick ourselves up and move on. _

Around this time, little Arnie Schnitz stopped existing, and Lance Strongbow was born.

…

After a while, Lance and Flynn began frequenting the pubs in Pincosta, Vardaros, Old Corona, making connections where they could. Started landing jobs. Started knowing how it felt to have the weight of gold in your pocket, and taste good wine and eat good food. Sometimes it would be honest jobs, like bodyguard gigs, but for the most part it involved teaming up with fellow thieves to carry out jobs as innocent as swiping some jewels from a lady’s purse or as complicated as a multi-storey robbery.

It turned out that Lance was very good at stealing.

It felt kind of nice to steal. Taking a piece of the world from somebody who didn’t even need it felt a bit like karma, somehow. The world took plenty from him before he was old enough or strong enough to try and wrestle it back, so it was only fair, right? From time to time, there would be a moment of self-reflection there  _ (what would my parents think of me if they saw me now?) _ but he was quick to reason with himself that wondering what could have been only made it harder to live in the moment. Thinking about it just became a chore, so he learned to shut it off.

Things carried on this way for a few years. Steal, celebrate, spend, repeat. At some point, Stalyan joined them. With her came a new taste of danger to their missions, because the Baron took them on for high risk cons and heists that could so easily go wrong. Lance didn’t enjoy those so much, but he did enjoy that the thrill of danger always brought Flynn crawling into his arms at night, head resting on his chest as they dreamed away the memories of doing unsavoury things to people who probably didn’t deserve it as much as the Baron thought they did. They fled town after Flynn’s disastrous almost-wedding day, but by that time, Lance wasn’t so sure Flynn was bothered about having  _ him  _ around either. He seemed tormented somehow, though Lance was never quite sure of what played on his mind constantly. The shame of abandonment? The unwavering need to find a missing piece of his past that may never show itself?

Money could never fill that hole, try as he might to convince himself.

…

Then one day Lance woke up and Flynn was… gone.

It was the night after they’d stolen from the owner of a successful brewery in town. The mission had gone without a hitch; Lance had done trip after trip up and down the stairs, lugging sackfuls of gold and silver from the safe, while Flynn had looked pretty for the owner’s son and charmed him into a position that impaired his line of sight, positioning him perfectly for Lance to carry out the heavy lifting. Flynn, after bidding farewell to the flustered young man, hadn’t seemed out of sorts. They’d laughed about how much trouble this guy would get into once his father returned to find an empty safe. They’d made a joke about their future island of wealth, and how this would surely be enough to make it all the way to Bayangor and back before running out. They had fallen asleep the same as they always did, tangled up and exhausted, and as he’d been lulled into his dreams, Lance had no idea that this would be the last they would cuddle for many, many years to come.

His side of the bed was unmade, so at first Lance believed he’d only left to take a leak, but as the minutes ticked by, turning into an hour or more, and he grew more alert with the brightness of the room, it dawned on him that Flynn’s scarce belongings were nowhere to be found. That did, unfortunately, include the majority of the money from last night’s heist.

It took Lance two days to accept that Flynn Rider wasn’t coming back.

From then on, things are a little… hazy. Lance recalls wandering for a while, busking a few times, spending many nights slumped over the bar of whichever local pub would have him for the night and wasting away the last of the money Flynn had left behind. Looking back, it’s easy to see it for what it was - his first heartbreak, and maybe his first bout of melancholia too. At the time, he’d simply wished to disappear, to be thrown into a river and sink like a stone.

Luckily for him, Pearly Perlson had come along.

After one such night of drinking way more than he probably should have, he found himself being hoisted upright by a woman a fraction of his size, with a mane of curly hair tickling his cheek as she dragged him towards a horse outside. He’d needed to stop, empty his stomach on the grass a couple times, and she’d stood patiently the entire time, lugging his deadweight body onto the saddle once she was sure he’d finished throwing up.

When he’d next woken up, she’d been there immediately, pushing a bowl of cinnamon porridge into his hands and perching on a stool beside the bed he’d been flung onto the night before.

“So what’s the story, Arnwaldo?” she’d asked, chin against the heel of her hand.

Lance hadn’t heard that name in a long time, so he asked her about it.

“When I asked for your name, you gave me Arnwaldo,” she’d chirped, amusement in her deep brown eyes. “Arnwaldo Schnitz, and don’t nobody forget it.”

_ How embarrassing. _ It was a part of him he hadn’t thought about in years, truthfully. Unlike Flynn, who could never truly separate himself from Eugene Fitzherbert no matter how hard he tried, Lance had had no problem shoving Arnwaldo Schnitz to one side, pushing him under the bed of his identity with one foot about as artfully as he would when hiding dirty laundry during room inspections as a child.

“I’d rather be called Lance, now I’m awake and sober.”

“Oh?” She’d cocked her head to one side. “So, Fancy Lancy, what’s the story? Cause you don’t look like the drink-yourself-to-death type.”

“It’s not always easy to tell.”

“Yeah, but I got a good look atcha last night, and I’m looking at ya now. You’re not trying to destroy your liver, so I wanna know what drove you to it last night.”

He’d taken his time chewing through several mouthfuls of porridge before answering. And when he did, for whatever reason, he’d answered honestly.

Names were changed and certain details were omitted, as to be expected when spilling one's entire life story to a stranger who rescued him from a pub, but by the end of his tale of woe, she simply shrugs.

“Fuck him.”

“Fucking him didn’t do anything but cause me more problems in the long run, actually.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She snorted out a laugh. “I mean, it’s doing ya no favours, drinking yourself to death over a guy. You know what I think? Any friend - or boyfriend, or whoever he was - any  _ good man _ worth his salt would have said goodbye to your face. So just… if you need a reason to push daisies, it’s gotta be better than that running son of a bitch.”

She had a point. Lance wasn’t too sure Flynn was at the centre of everything though, despite how happy that would have made him. No - it was  _ loneliness  _ that tethered him to the bar night after night. Flynn and Lance had been inseparable for too many years, and being independent wasn’t something that came all too naturally to him. Too old to go back to the orphanage that had been his home. Too young to put himself in the grave. Quite the conundrum, really.

Things had gotten better after that. She’d kept him fed for a month, old crazy Pearly Perlson, who had started insisting he call her his Grandma Pearl. The attachment had been purely for laughs, at first. But at some point, once he had a clear head and the ache in his chest had dulled, he’d started to consider her family.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to team up, and life almost returned to normal. Grandma Pearl was great at using her age to fool travellers into taking pity on her, and their routine was honed to a fine art - Grandma Pearl would fake a back injury or dehydration, beg for assistance, and Lance would sneak in the other side of the cart and steal their valuables while they cradled her in their arms and fed her fluids through a flask. She would wave them off with a smile and they would leave, feeling good about themselves for helping a sick woman until realising half of their things were missing, by which point the two of them would be long gone. It was easier than relying on Flynn not to put his foot in his mouth while flirting with their victims.

Unfortunately, any heists Grandma Pearl roped him into held more risk than the ones he used to take up with Flynn, and one such heist landed him in prison with no chance of release for the next four years. Grandma Pearl had visited him the once, made him promise to visit upon his release. The loneliness returned.

He couldn’t help thinking of Arnwaldo Schnitz in that moment, and all of the false hopes his parents may have had for him when they had cradled him in their arms for the first time. What kind of fucking disappointment was he? All he had to be remembered by was a sad portrait sketch hanging in the orphanage common area, faded beyond recognition in most places, and now a criminal record. Was that sad little boy ever destined for greatness? Was he deserving of it? Was he deserving of anything besides cold bars and a bleak, endless existence?

Prison is a time he’d much rather forget.

…

“So my real name is Arnwaldo Schnitz,” Lance says solemnly.

Keira and Catalina exchange amused glances, before bursting out laughing. He lets them. It’ll be easier to have this conversation once they’ve gotten every last giggle out of their system, he reckons, so he lets them laugh until there’s nothing left.

“It’s a heavily guarded secret. I can count the number of people who know on… okay, maybe a little more than one hand, but definitely no more than two hands!” Keira snorts again, and he bops her lightly on the shoulder with his fist. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only telling you because the date of the adoption is coming up and I didn’t want you two to walk out of the courthouse in shock, having signed your names away to be known by all as Keira and Catalina Schnitz.”

“Well, it’s really not that bad,” Catalina offers, with a small smile and a confused tilt of the head. “Your name would be the shocking part, not ours.”

“Touché. Look, I’m just trying to be upfront, like a cool dad. I don’t want to be one of those freaky dads who have all these horrible secrets that come out after they die. Nothing but honesty between us, all right?”

The girls both nod, and Keira asks in a small voice, “This isn’t a roundabout way of telling us you’re dying, is it?”

“No! No, no way.” The way relief washes so visibly over their little faces is heartbreaking. He reaches over to ruffle both heads, and grins. “I’m gonna be around for a long time.”

“So do we get to call you Arnwaldo now?” Keira asks, a cheeky glint in her eyes.

“No you may not,” Lance says sternly. “That’s like, an ultimate offence. Punishable by grounding and stable duty. I’m talking the royal stables. Eugene’s got strings, and he will not be afraid to pull them out for me.”

The girls exchange disgusted expressions, and he chuckles. They’re so… animated. They really do remind him of a couple other rowdy orphans he used to know. Little Arnwaldo Schnitz would have thought they were so cool.

“Well, I don’t mind being a Schnitz,” Catalina says with a small smile, “but do you? Is that why you tell everyone your name is Strongbow?”

Huh. “I… I guess it doesn’t feel like me. Just because our names are written down on paper, it doesn’t define us,” he decides. “So, y’know, you might become Keira and Catalina Schnitz, but you can call yourselves Strongbow, or whatever the hell you feel like. Your identities are yours for the taking.”

“Duh,” Keira says, rolling her eyes. “We already know that,  _ Arnwaldo. _ Now, can we do something else? Teach us a new card game or something?”

Catalina, in full agreement, gets to her feet and begins rummaging around in the drawers for a deck of cards to use. Keira keeps muttering about how  _ dumb  _ the name Arnwaldo is, but the twinkle in her eye tells she’s just testing the limits of how far she can tease him. He’ll let the threat of stable duty slide, just this once.

Lance realises, in this moment, that he doesn’t really need to  _ be  _ Arnwaldo Schnitz to know that his existence matters either way. Giving a piece of him, a piece of his parents, their hopes and dreams for him unto these girls is something he’d been dreading, ever since they agreed to the idea of becoming his daughters. Expectations on a child abandoned are so much, he knows firsthand, but he never expected the euphoria he would feel in acceptance. They didn’t have to open up to him, but they did. They didn’t have to love him, but they did.

Arnwaldo Schnitz, or Lance Strongbow, whoever he may be… maybe he didn’t turn out the way his parents would have wanted. He’ll never know how they would feel if they could see him now, and maybe that fact will haunt him for the rest of his days, but maybe it’ll stop mattering so much in the face of something so wonderful as becoming a parent himself.

It doesn’t matter. Today, he’s enough.


	2. fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #2 // Cass raises her eyebrows. “Hear me out. Growing up adopted with a father who loves me didn’t prevent me from becoming a complete basket case.”  
> “That’s a little harsh,” Lance laughs uneasily, and she fixes him with a stern look.  
> “I almost destroyed this entire kingdom a few weeks ago. Anyway, I could say the same to you! You really think you’re going to ruin these girls’ lives by caring about them and loving them? Stuff like that goes further than you think. You don’t need to have had a parent to lead by example, because your heart is huge. Like, probably abnormally large. Maybe bigger than an ox’s.”  
> “This compliment is going some weird directions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter one. not too happy with this one. for some reason it was really hard to just write what i meant, lmao  
> vaguely takes place around the time of chapter 1 of my cass appreciation week fic, 'build me up, don't break me'.

Lance has always been what could be described as a scaredy-cat.

Spiders are terrifying. Performing on stage is terrifying. Losing the one person in the world you thought always had your back and then landing in jail for years before parole is terrifying. Black rocks are terrifying,  _ red  _ rocks are  _ terrifying, _ ancient demons are terrifying, almost dying from a venomous spider bite is terrifying.

But letting down the two people in the world he vowed to himself that he would never, ever disappoint? Wrecking their self-esteem, ruining their chances at a brighter future, being the reason for their resentment and trauma years down the line?

That takes the cake.

…

Talking with Cass has slowly become one of the favourite parts of his week.

It was kind of a no brainer, taking on the responsibility of watching over her in the weeks leading up to her trial. The extra pay is always welcome, and although Cassandra has the potential to be downright fucking terrifying, she’s also one of his friends. One of his  _ best  _ friends, despite all that’s happened. Besides, between him and some random guard with strong opinions on how she’s spent the last six months, he’s betting a thousand she’d rather see his handsome mug at her door.

Each day goes the same. He’ll stop by for a few hours, they’ll talk or play board games or do something more practical to help out behind the scenes of the clean up effort; wrapping lunches up in cloth for the guard to hand out to the townspeople, mending clothing and gear. If the people of Corona knew that the culprit of the town’s destruction was the one carrying out these silent deeds, maybe they would be more reluctant to accept the help, but for now, it remains a secret known only to a few select people within the walls of the castle.

If it bothers Cass, she doesn’t say so. She tries to keep a steeled expression when he’s around. She hasn’t received a notice about the date of her trial just yet, but he’s sure something will give in her stony resolve once the reality of the situation sets in. Right now, it’s a bit like her head is underwater.

This morning is, in most ways, no different to any other. He only knocks twice before the door swings open, and her hair is damp from having recently bathed. He swears her eyes light up when she ushers him in, but as always, it could simply be a trick of the light. But while she’s holding her end of the bargain up, carrying on as always, Lance can’t fully bring himself to do the same for some reason.

Instead of boring her with some story or challenging her to a game of chess, he finds his own head feels as though it’s at the bottom of the ocean. Something has been weighing on his mind for days now, and he can’t quite shake it.

“What’s up with you?” she asks suspiciously, as he moves past to flop down on her bed. He starfishes out, staring up at the ceiling, and says nothing. It’s not like he has a process for organising these thoughts of his, anyway, so explaining what’s weighing on his mind to Cassandra would only turn into a complicated mess, with a dash of getting too personal for either of their liking.

She perches beside him, still watching him with a furrowed brow. “Come on, I’m serious. It’s not like you to be so…” Cass gestures for the right word, but can’t seem to find it. Instead, she just gestures again. He snorts.

“Not sure what you’re going for there.”

“You aren’t… acting like yourself,” she says carefully. Lance shrugs.

“Well, that’s not such a bad thing. I need to stop being so much like me.”

Her frown deepens, and she shoves him on the shoulder.

“Lance, what are you talking about?”

“I need to be… better.” Because what if he isn’t enough? He’s trying, he is. He got his job at the Snuggly Duckling back. He’s doing this side bit of watching over Cass. He likes to think he has what it takes to take the next step, but still…

“I can agree with that,” Cass says, and he almost deflates at her words, “but I don’t think bettering yourself comes with sacrificing your personality. It just makes people worry about you.”

Damn it, she’s right. He wishes he could be upset about that, only he finds it’s easier just to nod in agreement.

“Fine, you got me there.”

“Now, where’s this blip in your unshakable ego coming from, huh?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. He smiles back wryly, and then stares back up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the beams.

“…Cass, what was being adopted like for you?”

Beside him, she stills. After a few beats of silence, she asks, “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, well. You know.” He frowns a little, allowing his mind to wander back to watching from a window as a playmate was adopted but never, ever him. “I guess I don’t know much about what it’s like. I was never adopted, so… I just wonder what the experience was like for you.”

She shrugs, and the bed creaks a little as she does so. “I mean, I repressed any memories I had of… of Gothel.” The spits the name out, like it’s more bitter than lemon. “So my dad is all I’ve ever really known. I remember being adopted, so it was never a secret. I don’t think it really impaired my childhood, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“That’s good.”

“My situation is nothing like yours though, is it? Or that of the girls.”

“You’re right,” he sighs. “But you’re the only person I know who might have been in their shoes, so I still figured I’d ask.”

“Is  _ this  _ what’s been on your mind? You’re worried about how they’ll fare with Lance Strongbow for a father?”

“Well, like I said, I don’t have the experience of having parents or being adopted.” He rolls over and props himself up on one elbow. “Can someone who’s never had a parent really make a good father? I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll leave them worse than they are now, just because I’m me.”

Cass raises her eyebrows. “Well then, hear me out. Growing up adopted with a father who loves me didn’t prevent me from becoming a complete basket case.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Lance laughs uneasily, and she fixes him with a stern look.

“I almost destroyed this entire kingdom a few weeks ago. Anyway, I could say the same to you! You really think you’re going to ruin these girls’ lives by caring about them and loving them? Stuff like that goes further than you think. You don’t need to have had a parent to lead by example, because your heart is huge. Like, probably abnormally large. Maybe bigger than an ox’s.”

“This compliment is going some weird directions.”

“My point being,” she continues impatiently, “that no parent is perfect. My dad grew up with two loving parents, had a normal, happy childhood through and through, and still made mistakes when it came to raising me. You’re going to screw up sometimes, but it doesn’t mean you’re not capable of being a great father. Keira and Catalina trust you, don’t they? After the hand of cards they’ve been dealt, the fact that they’re willing to take a chance on you proves you’re doing  _ something  _ right, doesn’t it?”

Her earthy, determined eyes meet his, and warmth blooms in his chest.

“When you put it that way,” he admits. “They haven’t had it easy, Cass. That’s  _ why  _ I don’t want to fuck things up for them and make it worse. They deserve some stability.”

“Well, sure. You still have a long way to go before you can give them everything you need.” There’s an amused glint in her eye. “But there’s  _ time  _ for all of that. Besides, it takes a village to raise kids. And I have no doubt that Rapunzel and Fitzherbert will take that in their stride.”

“What about you?”

Cass blinks in surprise, and unconsciously leans away.

“What  _ about  _ me? I’m no good with kids. Even if I was, you’d trust Zhan Tiri’s former puppet around your future daughters? That, my friend, is what some might call bad parenting.”

“I trust you because you’re my friend,” Lance says firmly. “No matter your mistakes. And because if you’re going to nominate Rapunzel and Eugene like that, you’ve gotta be included. The three of you are a package deal at this point.”

Cass shakes her head, chuckling.

“Well, I’ll still have to earn Keira and Catalina’s trust back in spades. We never exactly hung out much to begin with. But regardless, Lance, you’re not doing this alone. We can pick up the slack when it comes to balancing work with minding them, or keeping on top of chores or whatever, but making them feel loved? Taking care of them and showing them how much they matter to you?  _ That’s  _ what makes a man a father.”

Lance’s eyes feel oddly prickly at that, and he blinks rapidly, staring down at the duvet and tracing the patterns with his finger.

“So you think I’ll be okay?”

“You’ll be  _ more  _ than okay. You’ll be great at it, because I say you will.”

He smiles wryly up at her. “And what you say goes?”

Cass grins at him and punches him lightly on the arm. “You know it.”

…

Lance has always been somewhat of a scaredy-cat.

He’s scared of letting his kids down. He’s scared of extending this invitation, this promise of a better life, only to have it crumble around them. He’s scared that someday they’ll leave him behind, or they’ll resent every little mistake he’s made in regards to their upbringing. He’s scared of having to give them the facts of life, he’s scared of some rotten assholes breaking their hearts, he’s scared of having to discipline them if they screw up because rejection can be so fucking  _ crushing. _ He’s scared that one day his love might not be enough to satisfy them, and that will be two lives he’ll have ruined.

But until it happens, there’s just no way of knowing. Allowing fear to rule his life is a dangerous road, so he’ll just have to keep his head above water until these anxieties lessen with time and experience and with a little help from his friends.

For his girls, he can do just about anything.


	3. fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #3 // “I love you, Lance.”  
> He smiles against Keira's hair. “Love you too, kiddo.”  
> “I love you,” she says again, pulling the door open to her bedroom, “but if you're raising kids, you should probably at least learn how human bodies work.”  
> Fair enough.  
> “I'll do better next time,” he promises, with an uncomfortable laugh, as she sends him one last exasperated look and shuts the bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw menstruation and trans issues  
> i'm just having fun here, and lets face it, lance raising two teenage girls is a trial by fire.

Lance isn't the most… suited to fatherhood.

Despite what Cass tells him, despite what Rapunzel and Eugene tell him, or anybody else who will listen, for that matter, paternal instincts don't come naturally to him. They just don't. He's been hardwired since his orphan days to reject the notion of fatherhood, and all of the responsibilities, good and bad, to come with it. Eugene had actually  _ laughed  _ when he'd first mentioned the idea of adopting the girls, which says all one needs to know about the parental aura - or lack of - that he possesses. (Eugene had apologised after he realised Lance was being serious, of course, but the damage was done.)

“I just never thought fatherhood suited you,” Eugene had chuckled sheepishly. “That's all.”

That's all? Well, a lot of things in life have never suited Lance. Parents, women, a full head of hair. Throw fatherhood into that mix, and now it's a party.

He'll do anything for those girls. It's almost a flaw, really.

…

The tricky part of being a dad to two teenage girls is that teenage girls have  _ problems.  _ Problems that don't always make a lot of sense to a man who grew up without a lot of female energy in his life. Grandma Pearl hadn't exactly shared much wisdom with him when it came to the ways of women, and Lance has never really lucked out with women he's taken a passing fancy to, so this leaves him hopelessly in over his head when dealing with his daughters.

He could have made it easy on himself. Rapunzel had offered to help by giving them some talks after the first time she'd caught Catalina examining one of her brassieres, during a quiet moment where she thought she wasn't being watched. Being young girls, their curiosity is natural. But Lance, still riding the high of being their father, had waved off her generosity and declared he would do it himself, no matter how out of his comfort zone he may be. Armed with some books on the joys of puberty from Corona's royal library, he'd marched home, done some reading for about twenty minutes until his short attention span had wandered, and then put it off for months.

Months turned into a year, and then a little longer than that, until suddenly one night Keira is at his bedside come four in the morning, white as a ghost and squeaking in terror that he should probably help her say her last rites because she awoke to blood in her bed sheets and just the  _ worst  _ pain in her stomach, so it's probably  _ fatal. _

This is around the time Lance realises the error of his ways.

“You're not dying, Keira,” he says first and foremost, because he  _ never _ wants his kids to worry about stuff like this when they don't have to. It's the nature of an orphan to see death around every waiting corner. He has plenty of experience with that fear, so his first objective is to put her mind at ease. “I promise you, you're not dying.”

“Then explain - this!” She waves her hands around wildly, a mix of fright and fury evident on her face. Clearly she thinks he's not taking her ailment seriously.

“This,” he says, as matter-of-factly as he can, “is what they call 'becoming a woman'.”

Her nose wrinkles in disdain, and he can already tell that this is going to be a long and frustrating night for the both of them.

Things move quickly after that. He goes to survey the damage (not as much blood as she'd described, although he supposes perspective is everything) and, not really knowing what else to do, runs a bath for her. While she washes, he fills a smaller basin and begins scrubbing the sheets clean, thankful that a lifetime of roughing it, pulling dangerous jobs and doing time has taught him all he needs to know about how to quickly and efficiently remove blood stains. He replaces the sheets with clean ones, noting fondly that Catalina hasn't even stirred from her sleep.

Keira emerges a while later, hair damp, and still looking just as pinched and pale as before.

“There's still blood,” she announces, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. “What should I do?”

That is the question, indeed. He scratches his head.

“I'll call for Rapunzel tomorrow,” he promises. “She knows a bit more about this than I do, so, er… I guess just try not to think about it for now.”

She watches him, unimpressed. “That's your big answer. Just ignore it?”

Lance shrugs with his whole body, and takes a seat beside her. He made some tea while waiting for her, and pushes a cup towards her. “I know it's not much of a solution. I'm sorry, Keira. Old Lancy-boy isn't very equipped to handle shit like this.”

The fact that she doesn't gloat about how he owes her a penny for the swear jar now, something she's taken great joy in ever since he decided to enforce that policy in the home, shows how distracted she is.

“Lance,” she mutters. “It hurts.”

His heart pangs for her, and he reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. “Sorry, kid. I'll fetch the princess at first light, I promise. Old guys like me don't know anything in this particular field, I'm afraid.”

“But I'm not dying?” She murmurs, looking to him with sad, scared eyes. “You promise.”

“Oh, Keira.” Leaning across the table and almost knocking the teacup over in the process, he hugs her. “I promise you. This is all going to make way more sense in the morning.”

He still explains as best as he can, bringing out one of the library books for reference, and Keira frowns down at the diagrams like they're going to burst from the pages and attack her.

“I think you were right about Rapunzel being able to explain this better,” Keira says finally, once her cup is drained. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Sure you can.” He hugs her again, tight, and she mutters, “I love you, Lance.”

He smiles against her hair. “Love you too, kiddo.”

“I love you,” she says again, pulling the door open to her bedroom, “but if you're raising kids, you should probably at least learn how human bodies work.”

Fair enough.

“I'll do better next time,” he promises, with an uncomfortable laugh, as she sends him one last exasperated look and shuts the bedroom door.

…

Three days after Keira becomes a woman (nope. Calling it that is too plain. He needs to find a way to jazz it up), Lance is already exhausted. Nobody told him just how much it sucks being the father to a teenager enduring the worst changes of life. Sure, he remembers all of the shit that came with being a horny and frustrated adolescent boy, but teenage girls are an entirely different beast. Keira has been nauseous and mopey and lacking in her usual wit, spending the last couple days slumped on her bed clutching her stomach or drinking hot tea designed to alleviate the tension in her muscles. It's a pitiful sight, and he genuinely feels awful for her. He can't promise her things will be alright, because what the fuck does  _ he _ know? She wastes no time telling him the exact same thing, so after the first couple of attempts to cheer her up, he ends up giving her some space instead.

Catalina has been acting strangely too. When Rapunzel came over the morning after, bringing diagrams and other things like belts and clips and whatever other gear necessary, she'd included Catalina in on the more accurate explanation of what they could expect from the horrors of menstruation. Ever since, Catalina has seemed dampened in spirits, probably coping with the impending doom of womanhood (better, but could be a bit more empowering). Lance can't say he blames her.

Keira hasn't wanted to spend much time with anybody, still squirming with cramps and feeling sorry for herself, so the two of them have spent their days walking around the house on eggshells, shooting each other miserable looks as they pass by. They're both the lights of his life, and seeing them so torn over something he's powerless against just serves to make him feel more shitty and useless than ever.

Today, however, he'd returned from town to the hum of hushed voices coming from the girls' room. As a rule of thumb, Lance always tries his best not to eavesdrop on them, as hard as it is to fight his curiosity, because part of being a good father is trusting his girls and giving them the privacy they deserve.

Still, he ends up overhearing anyway, as he's about to bring another cup of tea to Keira, and check up on if Catalina is feeling up to going out riding with him later.

“I'm sorry, Cat but I think it'll just happen, whether you want it to or not. I mean, I  _ hate _ this, but Rapunzel says I'm stuck with it for like, another thirty years.”

Lance pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob, unsure of whether to walk away and give them a few minutes.

“Yeah, but you get other stuff too and that's not so bad, but I… Keira, I don't know what to do.”

Catalina's voice, just on the other side of the door, sounds crushed. When Keira speaks next, her tone is softer.

“Maybe you should talk to a grownup about it. Lance? Or Rapunzel?”

Immediately, Catalina cries, “No, they wouldn't get it!”

“You don't know that!” Keira retorts. “I understood, didn't I?”

“Because you're my sister, and it's always been the two of us! They… they don't understand me like you do, okay?”

“Well, I'm in the same boat as you! I don't know anything. I don't know what you expect me to do, when I'm just as clueless as you are.”

“I know you don't, but-! Keira!”

Okay, this sounds like it's veering towards a fight. Lance raps his knuckles on the door loudly, and the duo fall silent.

“Hey girls! Everything okay in here?” He asks carefully, pushing open the door. Keira is sat up in bed, looking weary and upset, while Catalina stands off to the side, head buried in her hands, clearly on the verge of tears. Well then.

He steps through the clothes, boxes and other debris littering the floor (he'll get them to tidy up one of these days, even if it kills him) and passing the cup over to Keira. “Here you go. I mean it, you kids alright?”

Catalina and Keira pause, exchange a long, searching look with each other, before both turning to him and resolutely nodding.

“Yup. Everything is fine.”

He glances between them. “You sure?”

“We're sure!” Keira says resolutely. She glances at Catalina. “Unless, Cat, you-”

“We're sure,” Catalina interrupts. She forces a smile, and quickly leaves the room. Lance raises his eyebrows at Keira after she's left.

“Going once, twice, three times. You sure things are peachy with you, kiddo?”

“Lance, geez, it was just girl stuff! Leave us alone!” Keira scoffs, and he rolls his eyes fondly. Well, all right then, he'll leave them to their secrets.

…

“Lance?”

Catalina hovers in the doorway. Lance has been sat out on the small deck circling their home, watching the stars with a mug of cocoa in his hands. He glances over his shoulder at her, and beckons for her to join him.

“Everything alright, kiddo?” he asks lightly. It's clear as can be that there's something weighing on her mind, something she wants to get off her chest, and as a father it is his responsibility to listen. He won't push her to talk, because his girls can be awfully stubborn, but it looks like whatever Catalina's thinking about, she  _ wants  _ to be open about it.

If it has anything to do with the fight she and Keira were having this afternoon, it's clearly affecting her greatly.

Holding her own cup of cocoa in her hands, she gratefully takes a seat beside him, swinging her legs over the edge and through the gaps in the banister. They stare out at the sky. Above their heads, it's a deep royal blue dappled with stars, but at eye level, there's still just a hint of amber - the last echoes of sunset. The russet tones of the night remind Lance of the red of Catalina's hair, and the teal of her eyes.

“It's a beautiful night, isn't it?” he murmurs. “And just cool enough that cocoa in your belly is all the extra warmth you need.”

She smiles, but it's a quick, distracted smile. Her mind is elsewhere, so he begins to fish.

“Been a bit strange, these last few days, hasn't it?”

A small nod. “It's felt… unusual.”

“Well,” Lance sighs, “it's all a part of life, I'm afraid. Keira will get used to it, as will you. It'll come to an end too, I promise. I do  _ not  _ miss puberty.”

He expects a laugh, but Catalina is oddly solemn as she stares past him, out at the sky beyond.

“Why can't things just stay the same?”

He glances down at her. She's still staring straight ahead, but it's more like she's forcing herself to at this point. There's something so defeated in her expression, and he hums.

“I understand why you're frustrated. Growing up can be… tough. But I promise, it's nothing to be afraid of.” He reaches over to ruffle her hair. “I mean, it's a part of the human condition, growing up! You can't be tiny forever.”

There's no laugh or smile this time. She takes a long sip of her drink, before placing the mug down beside her and murmuring, “Lance, I need to talk to you about something.”

The statement sounds oddly rehearsed. He could make a joke about how overly serious this feels, but something in his gut tells him if he attempts to make light of this statement, she'll only clam up further.

“Okay,” he says gently. “I'm listening.”

“I… I don't like the idea of changing. I  _ like  _ myself the way I am now. But watching what Keira's going through… It's been giving me bad dreams.”

“Catalina,” Lance murmurs. He squeezes her shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. She doesn't shake him off, but she doesn't exactly melt into it either. “I had no idea you were so anxious about this. Look, I know it hasn't been easy on her, but Rapunzel says every person's body is different! So y'know, it might not be so bad when it's  _ your  _ turn.”

Catalina shakes her head. “I don't get a turn.”

“Nah, you will. You and Keira are just maturing at different speeds, that's all.”

He understands her reluctance. From what he's witnessed these last few days, the voyage to womanhood (now  _ that _ has a badass ring to it, he'll file that one away for later) is a fucking miserable and draining process, so he can't blame her for being unsure. But there's still something… digging at him wrong, about her dismay.

She reaches to grip the bars, so hard her knuckles are white, and ducks her head a little. “Lance, when Rapunzel came over to talk to us, when she was explaining things I knew they didn't quite match up to me. So I was looking through the books you borrowed out instead. They're overdue, you know. You should really return them soon.”

Lance clicks his teeth. “All right, noted. But irrelevant. You were looking at them yourself?”

She nods, chewing on her lip as she picks her next words out carefully. “I was reading up on stuff that would happen to  _ me, _ and now that I've seen it, I don't know what to do.”

Lance watches her as his brain groans, slowly grinds to life as it tries to make sense of the statements she's making. Something is being left unsaid. He's missing some big contextual clue here, he can tell.

“What is it that makes your situation different to Keira's, Catalina?”

By asking that, Catalina huffs, but it sounds more melancholic than angry. She squeezes her eyes shut and rests her head against one of the beams of the banister.

“I'm not gonna bleed like her, Lance, cause I don't have the stuff that bleeds. Any of it.”

_ Oh. _

Well, now Lance feels pretty stupid. He really should have put two and two together, the suspense of him figuring it out has probably been killing her.

“All right,” Lance exhales. He can feel her shoulders trembling ever so slightly beneath his hand, and he reaches to rub her back instead. “Okay, Cat, I get it now. So that's why you're afraid to change?”

Catalina gives a small nod. “At first, when it was just the bleeding, I thought, 'I'm lucky! I don't have to even think about that stuff!' But Rapunzel started talking about… stuff growing and changing shape, and I knew I wouldn't have that. So then I started reading, so I could figure out which things applied to me, and…” She turns to him, and her face is positively  _ miserable. _ “Lance,  _ none  _ of it feels like me.”

His heart pangs, and he pulls her into a hug immediately.

“Oh, Catalina. I had no idea you were worrying about this!” He presses a kiss to her hair, before pulling back a little to meet her eyes. She still looks frustrated, but considerably less anxious than she had been before telling him. “Have you been going through this all by yourself?”

She shakes her head. “Keira knows. She's always known. She's the one who said I should talk to you about this.” She worries on her lip again. “I think maybe I should have told you sooner, but it didn't really  _ matter  _ if you knew or not until all this puberty stuff started. I mean… I'm still your daughter.”

More hugs, this time with extra kisses to the crown of her head.

"Of  _ course _ you are," he reinforces. He rubs her back again, and she melts into his hug properly this time. "Nothing changes that. Nothing it says in those books makes you less of a girl, less of a daughter to me, less yourself. You're Catalina freakin Schnitz, you know!"

She giggles a little at that, and his heart swells at the sound. Thank god, things are back on track.

“I know.”

“Honey, who you tell and when is always your decision,” Lance says firmly, still running circles into her back as she sits pressed to his chest. “You don't owe an explanation to anybody. But I'm glad that you told me. Really glad. And now that you have, we can figure out a solution, can't we?”

He offers her a smile, and she smiles back.

“We can?”

“Sure we can. We're family. Whatever hoops we have to jump through, we'll figure it out.”

She hugs him again, so tightly it winds him slightly. She's so small in his arms, and he holds her close.

“You're a great dad, Lance,” she mumbles, and his heart soars.

…

“Girls, wakey wakey! I got something for you!”

It's barely ten, but he still drags them out of bed that morning anyway. He first pulls a drowsy Keira from her bed, guiding her over to the kitchen table by her wrists and pulling out her chair so she sinks down into it without needing to so much as register her surroundings as he wakes up. Next is Catalina, blinking blearily, stifling a yawn into her hand as he gently steers her with his hands on her shoulders until she's sat beside Keira. There's a big stack of pancakes in the middle of the table, ready to be dug into, and as a treat he's made them each a small cup of coffee to rouse them further.

“Too early,” Keira insists sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Need my sleep.”

“I know, I know,” Lance laughs. “But it's been a few days since we had a family breakfast, hasn't it?”

“Only cause things have been hectic around here,” Catalina yawns. “What with Keira's big voyage to womanhood, and all.”

Lance blinks. “Hey! Where'd you pick that one up from?”

“I could hear you making a speech last night while I was brushing my teeth,” she says with a shrug and a small smile. “You kept saying it in different tones, like you were rehearsing.”

He bursts out laughing, and the loudness has Keira and Catalina both covering their ears. “You got me there! Look, I was just trying to make it perfect!”

He reaches down into his satchel, and a few moments later brings out two small boxes, painstakingly wrapped. Rather than his usual trick of brown paper and string (he's never much seen the point in splashing out on pretty paper. After all, ripping it up is the fun part, right?) he's picked out pretty gold paper for them both, with a royal red ribbon for Keira's and a sea green for Catalina's. Both girls, now more alert, stare at the boxes as he hands them over to them.

“What's all this about?” Keira asks suspiciously, inspecting her box. Catalina is equally confused, holding hers up to her ear and shaking it slightly, listening to the quiet rattling inside.

“It's for your  _ voyage _ to  _ womanhood!” _ He declares with a grin, arms flared out dramatically.  _ Nailed it. _ The girls both stare up at him, wide-eyed. “Look, girls. In the eye of the storm, we've been so wrapped up in what's so awful about it that we didn't even stop to think what an absolutely huge milestone this is, for both of you!”

“I didn't exactly do much,” Keira deadpans, but she looks pleased nonetheless. Catalina still looks a bit confused.

“And I didn't do anything,” she volunteers. He shakes his head and reaches over to ruffle her hair.

“You did what you had to do. You let me in. Do you know how proud that makes me? You've both really grown!”

He knows there's still so much he doesn't know. Raising teenage girls is a completely uncharted territory for him, and Catalina's circumstances will bring about just as much confusion for him as Keira's, probably. It's not going to be easy. But looking at them now, he realises he's got some fantastic kids. And damn if he's not going to show them just how great they are.

The girls begin to unwrap their gifts, both with uncharacteristic gingerness, and Keira is first to open her box. She gasps.

“Lance, what the hell is this?”

So cheeky, even when receiving a present. He laughs.

“It's a memento! A treasure, for when you're fully grown and can look back on your journey. And when you do, you can think, ‘Wow! Our dad was so cool and supportive during this phase of our lives!’”

Keira and Catalina both lift their matching silver necklaces out of the boxes, staring in joy and wonder at their new treasures. They're not too overboard - simple silver chains, with a flattened silver piece in the shape of a spring flower. New beginnings, Xavier had said with a smile, without Lance needing to specify a reason for the gifts at all.

“Wow,” Keira says, flatly. “Our dad was so cool and supportive during this phase of our lives.”

The smile playing on her lips, the twinkle in her eyes, causes him to burst out laughing all over again, and the girls join in.

…

It was Queen Arianna who had mentioned the idea of necklaces. He'd happened to run into her as he was dropping by to have lunch with Eugene, and Rapunzel had clearly mentioned her visit the day before.

“Why not give them something to celebrate this new chapter of life?” She had suggested cheerfully. “As their father, showing your support is important, right?”

She was right. Of course, the original suggestion for necklaces had been way out of his budget, being in line with a queen's way of thinking and all, but after talking some ideas over with Eugene, he'd made the call to stop by Xavier's and place a special request.

Perhaps sensing the importance of it all, or maybe figuring necklaces were a fairly easy and small job, he'd been able to pick them up the next morning. Initially, having placed the orders before his talk with Catalina, he'd considered waiting until the start of her own voyage to gift her her own necklace, but now he knows what he knows… she's already there, isn't she?

There are alchemists he can visit, he reckons. Ones who speak of salves, solutions that can stop certain characteristics from appearing in Catalina. Better still, some that may be able to bring about changes that feel more authentic to her, if she’s emotionally ready for it. It won't be cheap, he knows, but they'll scrape it. He'll do anything, as long as these kids can go to sleep with smiles on their faces each night.

Besides, having connections with the Coronan royal family will no doubt make these solutions much easier to come by. Fuck yeah, connections.

Sure, maybe he falls short in how he handles a lot of this stuff. Maybe he's not always a perfect parent for them, but watching the two of them laughing over nothing in particular, in their new matching necklaces, munching on pancakes and kicking his shins under the table… 

Nah. Fatherhood suits him. He wouldn't change a damned thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to my dad for being an absolute professional when ten-year-old me burst out of the bathroom one night screaming that i thought i was dying because i had blood coming out of me. he also bought me a silver necklace a few days later, and that little gesture always stuck with me, so. lance was truly channelling my dad with this one lmao  
> trans!catalina has always been a headcanon of mine, no particular reason, but i just wanted to write this aspect into her character for my series since i do love queering the canon. i am a cis woman though so i hope i didn't write her coming out or her worries in a disrespectful way. if any trans readers want to weigh in on how i portrayed it, please let me know!!


	4. bonding with rapunzel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #4 // “You and me, Lance, what do you say?” Rapunzel has a twinkle in her eye. She twirls on the spot for emphasis, and her dress flutters around her like flower petals unfolding in spring. “You and I could enter dance competitions, and win.”  
> “How scandalous,” he sighs, pretending to swoon. “Princess Rapunzel and her brazen third lover take the championships, while lovers number one and two sit on the side lines, stewing in their jealousy.”  
> Rapunzel giggles, shaking her head.  
> “They'd be cheering the loudest, as I'm sure you know. Neither of them have what it takes to go all the way.”  
> "Well, that much is obvious, with Eugene's chicken legs and Cassandra's rigid posture."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's bad, i'm sorry. i just ran out of steam. still, lance and rapunzel DESERVED more screen time of just being dumb chaotic friends, it would be so good

Sometimes Lance wonders if he and Rapunzel are those kinds of friends that would fall out of touch without a second thought if circumstances didn’t keep bringing them back together.

He doesn’t mean that to be cruel. It’s not that he doesn’t like Rapunzel! There’s plenty to like! She’s kind, and creative, and confident, and always roots for the underdog. It’s lots of little things, thrown together haphazardly into the essence of a person, that ultimately draws Lance to them as opposed to a bigger picture. Rapunzel is no exception to that rule.

Still… their entire friendship is built up on circumstance. Eugene, his oldest friend, his former love, came back into his life with Rapunzel at his side, unwavering. It’s a little poetic, really. While he spent his youth stewing in jealousy over Stalyan’s closeness to him, seeing Rapunzel there really only served to give him a sense of closure. Knowing Eugene was in good hands now, and wasn’t with someone dead set on making him worse with each passing day, was enough to put his mind at ease.

He enjoys being in her company when she has weird kooky projects going on. He enjoys listening to her laugh or sing or joke around with Pascal. He enjoys when he pokes fun at Eugene and she laughs, or when  _ she  _ pokes fun at Eugene and it makes  _ him  _ laugh. He likes when she rattles off the brusque contents of a letter sent by Cassandra from some far off land, he likes when she takes time out of her royal duties to visit the treehouse or go out on a picnic with the girls.

As previously stated, it’s the little things.

…

They don’t usually hang out on their own, but sometimes, needs must.

Eugene had asked a favour of him the night before, barely able to look up from the sheer stacks of paperwork he was drowning under following an incident report about sexual harassment among several of the newest guard recruits. It wasn’t something he could half-ass or pass along for Stan and Pete to work through, so while running on coffee and adrenaline alone, he’d asked Lance a simple request.

“Take my place with escorting Rapunzel to Equis tomorrow?”

The idea was wild. Equis and Corona, being in any kind of peace talks, was so fucking laughable to Lance that he wouldn’t have believed it if not for the seriousness in Eugene’s tone. He never thought he’d live to see it, in all honesty, even if the hostility had lessened ever since the monarchy of Equis had been dissolved a year ago in favour of a democratic reform. Trevor wouldn’t be in attendance, no doubt hiding away in some distant country home he’d inherited, and the new government leader was open to an alliance being formed between the two kingdoms. Ergo, this was a highly important event.

“Are you sure?” Lance had asked, doubt evident in his tone. “It’s a big deal, and I am... not equipped to talk politics with these people.”

“Rapunzel insisted,” Eugene says, rubbing his tired eyes. “The king and queen are at their mountain retreat for their wedding anniversary, I’ll never finish all this paperwork in time, and Cass is all the way in Neserdnia right now. You’re our best bet. Just smile, look pretty, and don't insult them to their faces. It'll be grand. Now, you in or you out?”

Well, being the last choice should feel like something of an insult, but Lance is so fucking curious to see how this plays out, he doesn’t even mind.

“Sure,” he’d said, with a big old shrug. “I’ll be ready at seven.”

…

Lance needn’t have worried. As it turns out, Rapunzel can be a fucking riot.

The people of Equis had some pretty choice things to say about her, Lance is certain of it. Not one moment of the evening went by without him sensing someone whispering about the two of them. Gossip ranged anywhere from Coronan trade policies to the ludicrousness of Corona’s princess attending a royal event barefoot. Oh, and the moment they had arrived, Lance on her arm, the rumour mill had begun to fly in that particular direction, too. _A third lover,_ they had whispered. _Wasn’t the second one scandalous enough?_

If Lance had the patience to speak to any of these people, he would have told them where to go. Unfortunately, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The evening went off without a hitch - great food, even better wine, and plenty of dancing, with minimal politics considering the aim of the event was to finally work towards unifying Equis and Corona. They end up pulling away from the event some time after midnight, both pleasantly buzzed from the wine, and singing some silly sea shanties for the entire carriage ride home.

Against his better judgement, Lance accompanies Rapunzel to her room.

She’s like a flower, dancing through the silent corridors of Corona. Her feet patter quietly against the stone, her deep purple dress sailing out behind her. It’s a little more over the top than what she’d usually find herself wearing - multiple shades of purple, plenty of gold trimmings and sun patterns, to fully send the message of Corona patriotism out to the Equisian guests. Lance thinks she looks nice, and had told her so when he’d greeted her outside the carriage earlier that evening. She’d called his matching waistcoat of crushed purple velvet equally dashing, and complimented him on the gold-trimmed cufflinks he was wearing.

When the door swings open, he’s surprised to see it’s empty, but Rapunzel traipses through like it’s of no concern to her that her fiance is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s your boy at?” Lance asks, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence.

“He probably set up a cot in his office,” Rapunzel explains. “He’s had to conduct a lot of interviews today, he’s probably exhausted.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we had a better time tonight than he did,” Lance laughs. He stretches. “Did you mind what the people of Equis were saying?”

“About you being my ‘third lover’?” She creates exaggerated quotation marks with her hands, and he snorts despite himself. Rapunzel turns to him, grinning from ear to ear. “Not at all. You’re a handsome guy, Lance, big and strong. Kind heart and good sense of humour. Why would I mind if they thought we were involved? Besides the fact that I'm so clearly  _ not _ your type, I know.”

“Well… you always get so frustrated when they talk about Cass,” he says, arms folded. He leans back against the wall and watches as she slips behind her room divider, eyeing the silhouette as she slips her dress over her head. “I guess I’m  _ surprised  _ that you don’t mind what they were saying.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re not really with me, it didn’t bother me,” she murmurs. “But Cass… she’s just as important to me as Eugene. Nobody recognises her as such, so it upsets me.”

“I guess people have been talking more since the engagement was announced, huh,” he muses.

“They treat it like it’s some big scandal that I still receive letters from her,” Rapunzel snorts. “As if I would break contact with her! It affects her more than she lets on, too. When people say things about us… I can tell she feels horrible guilt over it. Maybe it was because you found it funny too, that it was easier just to keep laughing tonight.”

She steps out from behind the divider suddenly, and beckons him over. “Hey, can you help me out with my corset?”

Lance blinks. “Uh. I’m allowed?”

“Sure, sure, I don’t mind,” she says, with a touch of impatience. “I relieved Faith of her duties before we left Corona, so she’s not around to help me with it. Normally I can manage on my own, but she laced it extra tight for some reason, so…”

Lance fiddles with it for time, but with Rapunzel’s instructions, he manages to loosen the laces with ease, and he can see the way her body eases once she has some more breathing room. She shoos him away and disappears behind the divider once more, emerging again once she’s in her nightgown.

“Did you have fun tonight, anyway?” she asks, pushing her hair back from her face with one hand. “I’ll tell you, you can outdance Eugene on the dance floor, any day. You have way more stamina. You were running circles around  _ me  _ by the end!”

She twirls on the spot for emphasis, and her dress flutters around her like flower petals unfolding in spring.

“Well, I do love a good waltz,” he laughs. “It was pretty fun, you know. I don’t really do social functions that much anymore, especially since I have the girls to look out for.”

“You should  _ make  _ the time!” Rapunzel insists. When he rolls her eyes, she plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “I'm serious! You're really good. Ooh, maybe we could go dancing together! We could even take the girls along, if you think they'd be interested!”

“I think Keira would rather gouge her own eyes out,” Lance laughs. “And for a master thief, Catalina is a bit of a clumsy dancer.”

“Aw, too bad. Still, you and me, Lance, what do you say?” Rapunzel has a twinkle in her eye. She folds her arms and grins at him. “You and I could enter dance competitions, and win.”

“How scandalous,” he sighs, pretending to swoon. “Princess Rapunzel and her brazen third lover take the championships, while lovers number one and two sit on the side lines, stewing in their jealousy.”

Rapunzel giggles, shaking her head.

“They'd be cheering the loudest, as I'm sure you know. Neither of them have what it takes to go all the way.”

"Well, that much is obvious, with Eugene's chicken legs and Cassandra's rigid posture."

More laughter, and a smile on her lips as she poses her next question.

“Hey, hey. Want to see something I'm working on?”

She tugs him along by the arm before receiving an answer, and stops in front of a curtain, covering a corner of her room that ended up being rebuilt following the final battle against Zhan Tiri. It's been painted over a few times, he's sure, but only with doodles. Flowers, leaves, birds. Little things to fill the space while a new idea brews.

“Oh, I get a sneak peek? I'm honoured.”

She grins at him and pulls back the curtain with a flourish, and he stares.

It's like a little window into the future. Rapunzel stands strong centre, looking proud of anything, in a wedding dress. Lance hasn't seen the real thing just yet, but Eugene described it to him in excruciating detail not too long ago, so it appears to be accurate to memory. On one side stands Eugene, in the white suit he had tailored last month, adorned with his father's sash. His arm is entwined with Rapunzel's, and his other hand throws confetti into the wind. On her other side, Cassandra stands tall, beaming from ear to ear, in a matching suit, holding onto the bouquet.

Lance whistles. “Oh, that's beautiful.”

“Thank you!!” Rapunzel strokes the painting with the tips of her fingers, as if mesmerised by her own creation. “My unconscious desires sometimes come out in my work. I'd only been fantasising about my dress, but by the time I came to my senses, four hours had passed and I'd painted Eugene and Cassandra there as well.”

“Well, the heart wants what the heart wants,” he laughs. There's something nagging in his mind, though. “Cassandra… won't be taking part in the ceremony though, right?”

Rapunzel sighs sadly. “No, she won't. And she's been so lovely about it this whole time. I keep… I keep writing her letters asking for her input. I suppose it's silly of me, trying to include her in all of this, when no matter what I do, it won't feel like her day too. I'm starting to worry that she won't come.”

“Hey! She'll  _ definitely _ come.” Lance pats her shoulder. “The wedding is a happy day and she knows that! She wouldn't dream of missing it, even if she can't walk down that aisle with you.”

“I wish she could,” Rapunzel murmurs sadly.

“Well, you can just celebrate it in your own way!” declares Lance. Flippantly, he adds, “You could always just pull a Trevor and take her out to sea, or something.”

Rapunzel blinks at him, stroking her chin in thought.

“That's not such a bad idea…”

Lance laughs and shakes his head. It's a wild idea, for sure, but he won't shoot it down right now. She'll realise how outlandish the idea is come morning, when she's no longer buzzing from fancy champagne.

“Well, if this is just your fantasy,” he muses, “does that mean Cass doesn't have a suit for the big day?”

Rapunzel gasps loudly and claps her hands together. “Oh, Lance! You're right! I was going to have a formal suit made for her, of course, but…That's it! That's how we'll make sure everyone knows this day is hers.”

“Will there be enough time to get it done to the last detail?” Lance asks doubtfully. “The wedding is only a couple months away.”

“I'll put in the order first thing tomorrow morning,” she declares. “And I’ll pay them generously for the short notice, of course. Oh, but now you’ve said it, how can I not?”

Rapunzel bowls Lance into a hug, and he pats her back, too surprised to fully reciprocate.

“You have the best ideas,” she says. “Thank you, Lance.”

He shrugs. “Well, hey, you might not think my ideas are so great tomorrow once the hangover sets in.”

She snorts and untangles from him. “Very funny. Anyway, consider what I said about the dancing? It'd be good to get you back out there. Maybe even find you Mr Right! Or Miss Right. Or… Mx Right?”

“Or,” he says patiently, “we can dance, people can speculate, and I'll stick to raising my girls in that big single father life, how's that?”

“Sure, sure, if that’s what you want,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, stifling a yawn. She blows him a kiss, climbs into bed, and says sleepily, “You'll be okay getting home?”

“Don't worry about me!” He says dismissively, heading for the door. He waves, grinning from ear to ear. “Night, Princess.”

She waves back, sleepy smile on her face, and calls, “Thanks for taking me tonight.”

“Sure, free wining and dining with my good friend while people spend the whole night talking shit about us? Sign me up for the next banquet,” he laughs, before shutting the door behind him.

He can hear her giggles as he heads down the hallway, a spring in his step.


	5. prince / king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #5// Lance laughs from his belly, his shoulders shaking a little as he clings to Eugene as well. “How is dear old Stalyan, anyway?”  
> “How should I know? Haven't seen her in years, now.” His hands run up and down Lance's back soothingly. “Don't think we'll be those kind of exes who get coffee together and reminisce on the old times, somehow.”  
> “You mean like us?” Lance ribs, earning a light smack upside the head.  
> “If this is your way of saying we're exes again, I'll be really upset.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps into microphone* without further ado, i now present... schnitzherbert  
> set after the events of chapter 5 of 'some things never change', lost in the woods. recommended reading if you're scratching your head thinking wait a minute aint these two just old flames???

_“I have dreams like you, no, really_

_Just much less touchy-feely_

_They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny_

_On an island that I own_

_Tanned and rested and alone_

_Surrounded by enormous piles of money.”_

_-Eugene Fitzherbert, ‘I’ve Got A Dream’_

…

Lance and Eugene used to joke about being kings all the time. Or being rich as kings, anyway. It was a fantasy they had, as they would steal and take and rob, from bastards so drowning in wealth they wouldn't even notice a chest of gold going amiss. That pipe dream of theirs was a simple one; grab enough money that they'd never want for anything again, buy themselves a private island and spend the rest of their days drinking from coconuts and lying amongst their piles of gold. Just the two of them.

(Of course, Stalyan had briefly become a part of that fantasy on Eugene's part, during the time they were together. Lance never really imagined she'd take to retiring to a tropical paradise in her twenties, though, and he turned out to be correct in that assumption.)

These dreams, like so many others, fell apart over time; Eugene, then Flynn, left him like he left everybody, so consumed in his need to live only for himself that Lance was woefully forgotten. Shortly after Lance had found himself in prison, caught red-handed during a job, and spent that time staring up at the ceiling of his cell, arms folded, allowing his mind to wander back to that fantasy. Was he still a part of the dream? Was there still any hope in a simple future where he never had to worry for his next meal again? He wasn't quite as obsessed with the notion of being rich as Flynn was, but he was beginning to grow real sick and tired of being a loner.

Then he'd been approached about the secret route into the Baron's treasure trove, and a new plan began to take form.

As soon as he got out, he'd decided, he would find Flynn and gift him the biggest trunk load of wealth he could get his hands on. Maybe being rich as kings was something they could still reach for.

…

“Do you remember our plan?” Lance murmurs against Eugene's neck, his breath hot enough to send shivers up Eugene's spine.

“Our plan?” Eugene wriggles back a little, quirking an eyebrow. He lies back against the pillows of Lance's bed, arms folded over his chest as he wracks his brain. His face is goofy when he's thinking real hard. His brow furrows and his lips pull into a line, almost the antithesis of his carefully crafted smoulder. It's cute. He's _lucky_ he's cute, or Lance would be frustrated that this is costing enough brain power that their kissing has been interrupted. “What, you mean for tomorrow? We're taking the girls out riding, right? I booked the whole morning off-”

“That's not what I'm talking about,” Lance says quickly. He leans over, closing the gap once more, and cups Eugene's jaw, his thumb skimming over the part of his cheek where the stubble begins. It's prickly, familiar. A sense he only really associates with Eugene. “I meant, our Big Plan. From the orphanage days. Rich as kings, private island, drowning in money. Ring any bells?”

Realisation dawns on Eugene's face, and his mouth splits into a toothy grin. “Oh, yeah! The Big Plan. Man, _that_ takes me back.”

“I've been thinking about it lately,” Lance muses. “Don't know why. After all, you don't need to be rich as a king anymore, since you'll someday _be_ a king.”

“Yep, no fantasy compares to the real deal,” Eugene agrees, and he goes back to kissing Lance. As Eugene's tongue slips through, signalling the end of the conversation, Lance realises Eugene still doesn't understand what made The Big Plan so _important_ to him. It was never about the money, although growing up with nothing did make that aspect of it appealing. It wasn't about location, either; Lance would have happily lived in a wasteland or peat bog or up on an icy mountain if it meant it was some place to call their own.

It was always Eugene that made the dream worth entertaining. The fact that he doesn't realise that himself is… jarring.

“Okay, I lied,” he blurts out, pulling away immediately. He wipes some drool from the corner of his mouth and squares his shoulders as Eugene stares at him blankly. “I know why I'm thinking about it. Our dream never panned out and it's bothering me.”

Eugene raises his eyebrows. “Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly serious,” Lance says solemnly. Eugene groans.

“Let me get this straight. You're frustrated because we found _more fulfilling ways_ to spend our lives than being rich but miserable? What kind of self-sabotaging son of a bitch-”

“That's not what I mean,” Lance sighs. He sits up, no longer in the mood to be kissing and cuddling. Maybe he shouldn't have opened this can of worms. It's not often they get alone time, especially with Eugene staying over, but now it's out in the open and it feels like Eugene is deliberately misunderstanding.

Or maybe they were never on the same page to begin with.

“So what _do_ you mean?” Eugene asks incredulously, propping himself up on one elbow. “Enlighten me, Lance, please.”

“...It was just for us,” he says, hoping that's explanation enough, but when he's met with more silence, he hurriedly continues. “When we got older - when you started going by Flynn and started to pull away from me - I began to think I didn't factor into your happiness anymore. It bothered me. And then coming back, seeing you settled with Rapunzel… I realised that I was right. I wasn't a part of your future until I _forced_ my way back in, and that wasn't how I wanted to be remembered in Eugene Fitzherbert's Big Plan.”

Instinctively, Eugene reaches over to squeeze his hand.

“Lance,” he begins, and how is it that he can cram so much emotion, so much intent into one word? Still, Lance cuts him off.

“I made peace with it. I convinced myself it was easier on both of us if the past was the past, and I know I told you as much. But then, after the woods…”

Eugene swallows and nods. “Yeah.”

“We're still so new,” Lance finishes, with an exhale. “I mean, in some ways we're not, but this… The first time we were together was different. We were stupid selfish kids and you were kind of an asshole.”

“I was a _huge_ asshole,” Eugene corrects, lacing their fingers together properly. He stares down at his knees, as though afraid to face Lance directly. “I really don't know what you saw in me back then, heh. I like to think you love me for better reasons now.”

“Well clearly it's always been about the looks,” Lance laughs, nudging him. “I have a thing for the pretty boys, don't I?”

“I'm serious,” Eugene grumbles.

“Oh? No 'well sure I'm pretty, Lance, but that's no surprise to anybody who has eyes'?”

“I said I'm serious!” Eugene frowns at him, and with a light chuckle, Lance reaches over to rub his thumb across the creases in Eugene's brow.

“Fine then, I'll give you a serious answer. I love you because you're the only person who knows me as well as I know myself. I love you because you remember how dirty puberty did the both of us and you choose to look past that, which is _very_ generous of you. I love you because I remember you at your absolute worst, this selfish prick who shut out everybody who tried to give a shit about him, and you turned your whole fucking life around. I mean, just look at you now.”

Eugene blinks rapidly, face uncharacteristically red.

 _He's flustered,_ Lance realises with a widening grin. And maybe a tad emotional.

“I-” He cuts himself off, mouth quivering as though trying to make the right words come out. In the end he settles on, “I don't know what this has to do with The Big Plan.”

Lance isn't entirely sure, either. He's sure he was going somewhere with this.

“I guess… I just didn't expect things to turn out this way?” he sighs. He slumps over at this statement, burying his face in Eugene's narrow shoulder. His head slots in perfectly, like it was always supposed to be there. “It's not a bad thing. We've both found our own happiness. But I think all these years I was clinging to it. Even after I adopted the girls, even after you married Rapunzel, it was there in the back of my mind. Silly, huh?”

He feels Eugene's hands settle on his back, pulling him in closer until he's pretty much sitting on Eugene's lap.

“I don't think it's silly at all. It was our lifeline when we were kids,” muses Eugene. “Just because I let go of it after meeting Rapunzel doesn't mean it didn't still matter to us both.”

“So I'm not crazy for keeping this dream filed away for later?”

“Hell no. We _needed_ a plan when we were younger, cause we knew we'd just fall through the cracks otherwise. And I suppose we did, for a few years.”

“Yeah,” Lance sighs, shutting his eyes. “Prison sucked.”

“Waiting to be hanged wasn't fun.”

“How about leaving your fiancée at the altar?”

“Okay, this is just getting mean again.”

Lance laughs from his belly, his shoulders shaking a little as he clings to Eugene as well. “How _is_ dear old Stalyan, anyway?”

“How should I know? Haven't seen her in years, now.” His hands run up and down Lance's back soothingly. “Don't think we'll be those kind of exes who get coffee together and reminisce on the old times, somehow.”

“You mean like us?” Lance ribs, earning a light smack upside the head.

“If this is your way of saying we're exes again, I'll be really upset.”

“It's not, it's not. I don't invite people to snuggle in my bed if I'm about to break up with them.”

They pull apart, and Eugene no longer looks flushed or like he's two steps away from crying, thankfully. He cups Lance's jaw and kisses him gently. 

“The thing is,” he says with a hesitance, as he pulls away. “It's early days, so I don't want to presume anything, but, you know…”

“Know what? Do tell.”

“Let me finish,” Eugene chuckles. He averts his eyes before continuing. “We might not be living on some tropical island or anything, and we're certainly not alone in our future, but… Maybe you _can_ still be a king or a prince someday.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “We've been at this a few months at most, and you're already proposing?”

“Not a proposal!” Eugene interjects, shaking his head. “Absolutely _not_ a proposal. Just… a suggestion?”

“A suggestion is just a really shitty proposal,” Lance insists. Eugene groans.

“An observational statement, then! Like I said, I'm not like… presuming how you'd feel about something like that. But, you know, we never thought Sunshine and Cass would tie the knot, and yet…”

“Ah, but _that_ was because of legal difficulties. Not from a lack of wanting it.”

“Why do I feel like I've just been rejected without even proposing?”

“How would that even work?” Lance asks, ignoring Eugene's deadpan remark. His nose wrinkles as he thinks on it. “Never mind the legalities of an actual ceremony. You and Cass are royal consorts by marriage to Rapunzel, but _I_ wouldn't be marrying Rapunzel. Not that I wouldn't be flattered, by the way, but as it stands she's definitely not my type, and-”

“Lance,” Eugene says through gritted teeth, “are you forgetting that I'm a prince in my own right?”

“Oh, the dark kingdom doesn't count,” Lance says automatically. “They've got what, about twelve residents total?”

“It still counts!”

Lance laughs, long and hard, while Eugene watches on in bemusement. When his laughter finally dies down, he shakes his head.

“Thanks again, Eugene, but I'll have to say no to marrying you.”

Eyebrows raised, Eugene shrugs with his whole body and says, “That's okay. Who even said I was asking?”

“You totally were. Look, it's not that I don't like you, and even if we break up again someday I'm sure we'll still be hanging out, shooting the breeze and making fun of people less pretty than us.”

“Where's the 'but' coming in?”

“But,” Lance says carefully, “I'm just not feeling that serious, you know? Maybe I never will. I know I used to preach shit about true love being so special and whatnot, but honestly? The girls are my life right now, and I feel like they're all I need.”

Eugene grins uneasily. “Ouch,” he says.

“I love this,” Lance reiterates, scooping Eugene's jaw in his hands and bringing him in for a kiss. “And I love _you._ But I also love my life now, and it’s perfect right now just the way it is. I don't _need_ a wedding or a husband or special royal titles or any of that shit. I don't need the Big Plan. I just need my boyfriend's tongue in my mouth and I'm happy.”

“Gross,” snorts Eugene, shoving him away with a laugh. “You're terrible.”

“But you wanna kiss me so bad,” sings Lance, earning him another shove.

“So your life's everything you ever wanted, Lancy boy?” Eugene asks, as he's pulled back in for a hug. Lance holds him tight and closes his eyes.

“Sure is.”

“Well then,” Eugene says brightly, pressing a kiss to Lance's cheek. “That's all _I_ need to be happy.”

“Dude. C'mon. That was terrible.”

“Shut up, I'm trying to be gracious about this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can ya tell i wrote this one in advance??? it feels like some more thought was put into it instead of the improv i've been doing the rest of this week lmao  
> anyway, MIGHT do the original strikers prompt (just cause i want to write a nod to lance being jealous of stalyan lmaoo) but i'm really tired and a bit burnt out so we'll see. i'll probably miss the last two days just cause im sleepy, but hope you've enjoyed lance week!!!


End file.
